


every devil his due

by convexity



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Breathplay, Dark Original Percival Graves, Dubious Consent, Emotional Manipulation, First Kiss, M/M, Nipple Play, Not Safe Sane and Consensual, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Rape/Non-con Elements, Threesome - M/M/M, Victim Blaming, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-09-07 10:13:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16852111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/convexity/pseuds/convexity
Summary: Dark!Percival Graves works closely with Grindelwald, who has brought Credence and his obscurus to heel through careful manipulation. Graves feels entitled to Credence too and wants to have some fun with him. Credence is in the middle.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this chapter is pretty PG, but heavily alluding to mature themes and in a dub-con context.

“You could have told me you’d brought him home. Hardly fair, otherwise.” Percival Graves said mildly, hands in his pockets as he leaned on the doorframe, watching Gellert Grindelwald with the obscurial boy in his arms.

  
Credence looked up from Grindelwald’s lap. Graves eyed him as dispassionately as if he were reading the Sunday paper. His stomach turned nervously at this new presence. He knew the man’s face, but knew him not at all. He was barely used to Grindelwald touching him, still shy with his own body when Grindelwald embraced him or held him close or bade him crawl into his lap as he had been the past few nights.

  
Grindelwald kept petting Credence’s neck. “He hopes to reap where he has not sown.” He said next to Credence’s temple, just loud enough for Graves to hear.

  
Grave’s expression did not change. “I’ve sown.” He said flatly.

  
“For the cause,” Grindelwald replied, arm circling around Credence’s chest snugly. “but not with the boy. Don’t be crass, Percival. Credence will decide, not me.”

  
“Crass?” Graves repeated carefully. He pushed off where he’d been leaning on the doorframe and came closer. Credence watched with mounting apprehension as Graves pondered the ground before each leisurely step, a pensive finger pressed to his lips. “I don’t think I’m being crass in the least, Gellert.” 

  
Credence could hear the smile in Grindelwald’s reply. “Ask the boy.”

  
Credence went still as a wild animal in hunter’s crosshairs. Grave’s dark eyes moved to him. They squinted slightly as smallest of smiles crossed his lips.

  
“Credence.” He said quietly. Credence made a small acknowledgement in the back of his throat. He didn’t want to speak.

  
“I don’t believe we’ve met.”

  
Graves squatted down so he was slightly below eye-level in an attempt to put him at ease. “I’m Percival. You know my face, but yours is new to me.” He reached out his right hand and held it steadily between them. Tentatively, Credence reached out with his own. The man’s hand was warm and dry, his grip firm but not tight. He didn’t move it up and down in a handshake, just held it there. His whole countenance changed when he smiled warmly. Credence’s breath hitched, remembering the kind words and soft touches. Not truly Mr Grave’s, he knew, but it was hard to keep that in his mind when this was the face he’d known those weeks ago, looked for around every corner.

“What a beautiful boy.” He said, more to himself than Credence.

“And so talented.” Grindelwald said. Credence dropped his eyes at the mention of his “talent”, the thing Grindelwald called an Obscurus.

  
Graves stood. He didn’t come closer, instead went to the armchair adjacent to where Grindelwald was sitting with Credence. He sat comfortably, resting both forearms on the arms of the chair, hands hanging relaxed off the edges. He opened one palm up, curled two fingers at him.  “Come here, child.”

  
Credence didn’t move. Grindelwald removed the bracing arm that lay across his chest, so nothing restrained him. Credence looked back at him for assurance. He only shrugged and tipped his head to the side. _Up to you._

  
Credence extracted himself from Grindelwald’s lap. His legs felt weak and wobbly. He stopped in front of Grave’s feet, hands by his sides, head bowed modestly, unsure of what to do. Graves clasped his hands in his own and rubbed his palms with his thumbs.

  
“Hello there.” He said, and his voice was soft. Credence glanced up. He was met with another disarming smile.

  
“Come, sit with me.” He invited, tugging Credence by the hands toward him without really trying to pull him. He glanced back at Grindelwald, who was watching with his arm slung over the back of the sofa and one black boot propped on the table in front if it. He didn’t look like he cared.

  
Graves let go of his hands and took him around the waist, pulled him down smoothly and swiftly into his lap. He gasped at the suddenness, fell against Grave’s broad chest. Graves scooped Credence’s coltish legs behind the knees and swiveled, draping them sideways over him so Credence was as close and comfortable as possible.

  
Credence could smell Grave’s cologne on his clothes, faint but heady and making him feel dizzy with the sudden proximity to him. To keep his balance when he was pulled down he had put an arm on Grave’s chest which he removed now, clasping them in his lap. He thought he was too tall by far for this, but neither Grindelwald nor Graves seemed to share his opinion.

  
“There you are.” Graves said sweetly to him, touching his forehead to Credence’s. His arms came loosely around his torso to settle over Credence’s own hands. Credence thought if he could get his heartbeat back to normal this would actually be kind of nice. Graves was warm and smelled so good and his arms were an anchoring weight, the touch of his hands soothing.

  
It was everything he’d wanted and dared not even dream back when he’d met not-Graves in alleys, in shadows. Everything he’d craved and been afraid of craving. But reality had opened up into a yawning abyss since then. He’d been sleepwalking toward the precipice for some time, blindfolded, and now he feared he could trust his own instincts not at all. Not-Graves was sitting over there, wearing a new face, and the man he’d never met but recognized was holding him in his lap like a tavern girl.

  
“Been to the races yet?” Graves asked Grindelwald, nodding toward Credence in his lap.

  
Grindelwald gave Graves a levelling glare Credence was glad wasn’t directed at him. “On the contrary, ” he said as if he were the sole voice of reason in the room, “I’ve only just slipped the halter on. Patience.”

  
One of Grave’s hands lifted to pat Credence’s thigh. The air on Credence’s hand felt cold in its absence. “Looks tame to me.”

  
Grindelwald barked a laugh. “But I pity the fool who spooks that boy.”

  
Credence didn’t like being talked about like a showpony. He had a gut feeling about what ‘the races’ meant, though Graves was being deliberately cryptic. It was possible he just thought Credence was stupid. That probably should’ve made him mad, but it just made him feel sort of empty and chafed. He pushed the thought away. He was being paranoid. Grindelwald had been nothing but gentle with him, and he should be gracious in thought and deed.

  
“No one said anything about spooking him.” Graves said, squeezing Credence in his arms. “You’re not skittish, are you baby?” He asked like Credence was supposed to confirm that no, he was not.

  
“I..” Credence looked to Grindelwald, but he had leaned his head against the back of the couch and was pinching the bridge of his nose like he was very tired of all this.

  
“No, Mr. Graves.” Credence went with.

  
“ _Mr Graves_ ,” Graves parroted. “Oh, I like you. Gellert did you teach him that?”

  
“He came with manners,” Grindelwald condescended to reply, eyes closed and head still back. “And a very strict religious background, which I distinctly remember telling you about.”

  
“I was briefed,” Graves told Credence into his ear. “About your unfortunate upbringing. And that woman who raised you. I’m sincerely sorry about that, Credence.”

  
Credence kept his eyes downcast, could focus only on steadying his breathing. Grave’s breath was warm on his neck and his voice reverberated in his chest, Credence could feel it it against his back. Graves was saying something about how he hoped Credence would trust them moving forward, something about family, and there were fingers alongside his jaw, tilting it toward him. Grave’s kissed him on the mouth, Credence’s first kiss. His finally steady heartbeat sped up again. Graves was kissing him, it was more than he knew how to process. His hand moved from Credence’s jaw to the back of his neck, bracing him so that he could kiss him a little fuller. He didn’t know what to do except feel it, feel heat and foreignness and desire kindling somewhere in his belly. As suddenly as it had happened, Graves let him go. Credence blinked stupidly at him, looking from the lips that had just been on his to his eyes, which were still so warm.

  
“So sweet.” Graves purred, bringing his hand to the side of Credence’s neck so he could caress his cheek with his thumb. He shot Grindelwald a look that said _see?_ “Did that feel alright, lamb?” He asked.

  
Credence suddenly found himself taking a desperate inventory of his thoughts, which were scrambled and unintelligible as radio static. He thought it felt better than alright. He thought it felt like something he’d wanted so badly he’d always been afraid to look it in the eye. “Yes,” he whispered with his whole body buzzing.

  
Graves kissed him again, and this time he didn’t need his guiding hand on the back of Credence’s skull because he kissed back best he could, a little clumsy but eager. Graves held him around his biceps, kissed him harder than before, making an approving noise into his mouth. Credence felt Grave’s tongue and whimpered, feeling him controlling the kiss, licking sweetly into his mouth and reeling from the obscenity of it, how the trace of stubble on Grave’s skin scratched his upper lip and chin, how good it felt to be wanted in such a way.

When Graves pulled away Credence was nearly breathless. He felt like his skin would be hot to the touch. He looked to Grindelwald, who was watching with an expression as close to bemusement as Credence thought might be possible for him.

  
“I ought to flay you for that.” He said to Graves wryly.

  
“Or thank me.” Graves said, running the pad of his thumb across his bottom lip.

  
Guilt and shame were flooding into the empty space left by his first kisses, and not for the reasons he would have expected. Credence felt as if he’d been disloyal somehow. Boldly he stood, legs tingling of numbness, and went back to sit stiffly next to Grindelwald, their thighs touching. He didn’t know yet if he should’ve. Graves laughed quietly.

  
“What?” Grindelwald asked Credence.

  
“Sorry, Sir.” Credence mumbled. He didn’t know if Grindelwald even wanted to kiss him or wanted him that way or if he was just confused.

  
“You’d better be. You’re in trouble, now.”

  
Credence dared to glance at him. He was smiling a little and his voice didn’t match his words. He sounded like he was teasing, like he didn’t care at all, but Credence had spent half his life in trouble and knew there was no end to how to get into it.

  
“There’s a trick to getting out, though. You just have to be a good boy and share.”

  
So he did want to kiss him.

Credence was nodding, turning his body toward Grindelwald, who pulled him gently over him so Credence was straddling his lap. His hands went to the sides of Credence’s face and he received his second kiss. It was barely-there at first, as if he were patiently allowing time for Credence to balk. It reminded Credence of those first touches in the alleys, always waiting for him to settle and lean into it. Even though it had been Grave’s face, it was Grindelwald’s touch that was ultimately more familiar.

He settled. He leaned in.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heavy dub-con

Graves and Grindelwald were taking their time with him. They seemed to be in no rush, either unaware or indifferent to how anxious it made him, how questions and insecurities chafed him raw. He’d been sitting at Grave’s feet for an hour, ignored and convinced he was going to die from it. Grindelwald was in the room, but wasn’t looking at him either. They both seemed to forget he was there, talking to each other but never addressing him. Credence set his temple on Grave’s knee, hoping for attention. Still the feeling of Grave’s hand settling on his hair made him jump.

“Be good.” Graves told him sternly. Grindelwald looked at Credence for the first time in hours, as if he’d only just become visible, sitting there on the floor beside Graves. Grindelwald's eyes shifted up to Graves, and the two exchanged a look. Graves tapped him on the shoulder. “Up.”

Credence stood stiffly. He felt a hand on the small of his back steering him into another room. His heart pounded as he was brought to a bedroom, pushed a little so he stumbled into the bed. He crawled onto it.

Both men stopped at the foot of the bed. He watched with growing uncertainty as Grindelwald began to undo the buttons of his starched white shirt. Graves followed suit.

“He a virgin?” Graves asked, as if Credence wasn’t there.

Grindelwald shrugged. “Likely.”

Grave’s shirt was open and he pulled it from his trousers, which he loosed with one hand. Credence shrunk back on the bed but Graves only sat on the edge. Grindelwald still stood, watching Credence and very slowly loosening the front of his own clothing.

“Come here.” Graves ordered, patting the mattress beside him. Credence twitched, hesitated. Graves might as well have asked him to jump from a ledge. His body wouldn’t let him do it.

“Come closer, Credence.” Grindelwald said more gently. “It’s just us.”

Credence swallowed thickly, crawled the space between them into Grave’s arms. He was rewarded with a smile. “There we go,” Graves said into Credence’s ear, kissing his neck.

Grindelwald sat behind him and Credence lifted his arms as Grindelwald peeled his shirt from his body. He turned and went into new arms, greeted by more kisses. As long as they were touching him, he felt grounded. The minute they stopped, his mind reeled and he froze up, afraid and self-conscious.

“Shaking.” Graves mentioned as though it pleased him.

Grindelwald rested his hands alongside Credence’s jaw, pulled back to look into his eyes.

“Should we dim the lights a little?” He asked Graves.

Credence didn’t know what he meant. It was already rather dim in the room.

“If you think it necessary.” Graves answered. “I kind of prefer him like this.”

Grindelwald tilted Credence’s face up further in his hands, studying him. Credence tried to breathe but his chest was tight. Grindelwald seemed to come to some decision.

“This time. We'll see about next time.”

Graves shrugged, conceding.

Credence paled when Grindelwald reached for his wand and raised it next to his throat, spoke under his breath.

By the time the wand was lowered, Credence didn’t know why he’d been concerned at all. Ever, in fact, about anything. The world was padded and soft as a mossy thicket, every point of contact he had with Grindelwald warm as sunlight. He was being kissed again, and did his best to return it through the gauzy haze. Dreamlike, in slow motion, he was moved back onto the pillows and laid down gently. He was only dimly aware of the rest of his clothes being pulled from him. Hands touched him, everywhere it seemed, and his body glowed with need.

Credence didn’t know what to do with everything he was feeling. It was on every front, from all sides. His body was abundantly willing, his thoughts only of how he felt, the attention being lavished on him.

He heard himself as if distantly, moaning breathily as both men’s hands roved over his body. Graves kissed and sucked at his neck hungrily and he closed his eyes, mouth falling open in surprise at the way it made his whole body tingle.

There were hands on his nipples, rubbing and teasing his pink flesh into hard nubs as he whimpered and arched his back, delirious and drowning in sensation, every thought muted and unreachable.

“Good boy,” Someone was saying kindly to him. He opened his eyes. Grindelwald, with a knowing smile. He smiled back.

“Spread those legs for us.” Graves suggested into the shell of his ear. Credence did.

He was rewarded by the wonderful, foreign sensation of slick fingers touching him _there,_ between his legs. His dick twitched. Please, y _es, there._ He wanted to beg for more of those touches but couldn’t get any words onto his tongue. He couldn't speak, he realized, but it bothered him not at all. Everything was fine, of course it was. He felt so good. Why wouldn't it be? He rolled his hips in lieu of speech and his own wanton whimper echoed strangely in his ears.

Grindelwald perched his thumb on Credence’s bottom lip and he opened his mouth reflexively, tasting the salt of skin as it entered the wet heat of his mouth. He licked and sucked as Grave’s fingers opened him down there too, pushing into his body. It was a painless but unyielding feeling, being opened and explored. Grindelwald pulled out his wet thumb and  pushed his index between Credence’s lips instead and he sucked it dutifully, hungrily, understanding the metaphor in some dull and unresponsive part of his mind.

Grave's fingers started to move in a rhythm and Credence moaned around Grindelwald’s finger, feeling an insistent and inescapable pleasure that seemed tied to why his cock was so, so hard, drooling little beads of wetness on his belly. Yet he felt shameless, drunk on pleasure.

“You want to go first? He’s yours.” Graves was saying. 

“You do the honors.” Grindelwald replied almost off-handedly. “A bonus for sterling service, Percival. I have another idea.”

The lovely fingers retracted and Graves was on top of him, and the fingers were replaced and _oh_ , Graves was stretching him on his dick, splitting him. _Fucking_ him, his brain supplied dimly, and he’d never been so filled up.

The fingers on his tongue were replaced too, he realized, when he felt a hand in his hair and opened his mouth to the smooth warmth of Grindelwald’s cock, hard as his own. If he wasn’t so utterly full of the feeling of Graves fucking his hole he might have the decency to blush. 

“Good boy, Credence. That’s it.” Grindelwald praised, bracing an arm on the wall to gain better access to Credence’s mouth. He fisted his other hand at the back of Credence's head, pushed him down a little further on his cock until Credence choked. Grindelwald eased off, but Credence only spluttered a cough and found him again with his mouth, wanting to please, tears wetting his eyelashes.

Grindelwald hummed approvingly, wiped a thumb through the tear-track on his cheek. In his eagerness Credence was only dimly aware of the wet, obscene sounds he was making with his own mouth as he took Grindelwald as deep as he could without gagging again. Grindelwald seemed to like it, gripped the back of his neck encouragingly but didn't push him further down. 

Credence tried to concentrate, but Graves had just thrust deeply and held there for a long moment, and Credence was seeing stars. He felt bereft when Graves was no longer inside him. He moved up by Credence’s side, a little out of breath and wearing a self-satisfied smile.

Grindelwald pulled away from his mouth and replaced Graves weight on top of him, pinning him, and Credence realized through a haze that he was going to fill him up too, fuck him right after Graves had. It felt just as good, something inside him aching for each thrust.

Graves wrapped his warm hand around Credence’s throat but he couldn't feel any alarm in this floaty place, this stupor. Graves squeezed, but Credence found he could still breathe. Only the parts of his throat under Grave’s fingertips and thumb were receiving any real pressure. It made his head feel funny and his vision dim. The pressure was steady and unyielding, and he thought mildly he might black out while being fucked before Grindelwald's languid thrusts became more foreceful, and then stilled. He paused only a moment before pulling out. Graves released Credence's throat. The room tilted, dancing with bright spots.

“He’s still hard.” Graves laughed, cruelly swatting his erection. Credence could only moan weakly. “Should we?”

“Later.” Credence heard Grindelwald reply, already tugging his clothes back into place. “When the lights are back on.”

 


	3. Chapter 3

Credence came back to himself on the sofa, after being half-carried from the bedroom. Awareness came to him all at once, waking after strange dreams. He remembered what happened - only as if it happened to someone else. He remembered how he’d felt, some things that Graves and Grindelwald had said to each other. He could remember Graves telling him to spread his legs for them and how Grindelwald had smiled and how he’d smiled back dopily. Nothing had hurt. He was sure whatever Grindelwald had done had made him incapable of fear or pain.

Now though, he felt embarrassed, ashamed. He could _feel_ where he’d been fucked, which corroborated his memories. That didn’t stop him from pressing against Grindelwald, as if the continued contact would keep him from having to process further, to think and be alone with those thoughts.

“Welcome back.” Grindelwald said. He must have seen the change in expression on his face. Had he looked dreamy before? Wearing a thousand-yard stare? He realized he was clad only in  a long white shirt and tugged it down further on his thighs.

“Do him a favor, Gellert, put him under again.” Graves said dryly from behind a mahogany desk near the hearth. Grindelwald ignored him.

“The rest of your clothes are right here.” Grindelwald told him, nodding to the table in front of them. They were folded neatly on the edge. In his worry he hadn’t even noticed. Credence made to reach for them but Grindelwald held out an arm and eased him back into the cushions.

“Just a moment.” He covered Credence’s hands with his own. “I think you deserve a little something for being so good earlier, don’t you?”

Credence searched Grindelwald’s eyes. _Later,_ he dimly remembered him saying in the bedroom. _When the lights are back on._ He ground his teeth tight to keep his jaw from shaking. Grave’s quill paused, hovering over the parchment as he watched this development with barely concealed interest.

“Like what?” Credence’s voice sounded wobbly and hoarse to his own ears. Like a fragment of a dream, he remembered not being able to form words before. Whatever had been done to him had rendered him mute, but he could speak now.

“Whatever you’d like.” Grindelwald said genially.

Credence thought he’d like a bath, and something to eat, if that was an option.

“I’m… I’m a little hungry?” He ventured.

He winced when Graves barked a laugh and set down his quill to watch Credence over steepled fingers, clearly deeming this more interesting than his work.

“We’ll eat soon, then.” Grindelwald promised. “What about something else? Something that was on your mind earlier, maybe?”

 _Oh_. Credence felt his face grow hot with shame. The memory of his aching, ignored arousal made something in his belly stir again.

“I don’t… It’s fine.” He said quickly, ducking his head.

“Don’t be shy.” Grindelwald pulled him closer.  “We’ve already seen everything.”

Graves made a grunt of agreement from behind the desk, pressed his fingertips against his lips.

Credence let himself be maneuvered closer, closed his eyes as Grindelwald ran his hands up and down his bare thighs. His desire quickened, strong and immediate, reawakened from before. Grindelwald’s hands rose higher each pass they made up his legs, pushing the hem of his shirt back. His breathing grew heavier.

Grindelwald shifted sideways, put a leg on the sofa so he could pull Credence down between them to lay with his back against his waistcoat. The hem of Credence’s shirt slipped up as he moved and he whimpered, feeling himself exposed.  His pink cock bobbed traitorously hard against his belly, his slit already shining wet with precum. His desire was obvious, his nakedness from the waist down now on full display. He bit his lip, feeling Grave’s eyes on him from across the room. Grindelwald slipped one arm across his chest, anchoring Credence to him, and began to explore him with the other. Fingers caressed his balls first as he squirmed with need. Grindelwald spoke almost inaudibly and suddenly his fingers were slippery and wet, like Grave’s had been earlier.

He let his head fall back against Grindelwald’s chest, trying not to moan when he felt his hand finally wrap around the length of his cock.

“I told you it’s better like this.” Graves said huskily from behind the desk. Credence refused to open his eyes to see him watching. That would be too much.

“The spell was for the boy, not for you.” Grindelwald replied cooly.  Credence felt the vibration of his voice in his chest. Grindelwald began to move his hand in long, slow strokes.  Credence bucked his hips, the wetness on Grindelwald’s hand giving him an easy range of motion that he thought might make him come right then. His hands dropped to either side of him, scrambling for hold and finding Grindelwald’s pant leg, which he grasped in a fist.

Under these languid touches Credence could not longer stifle a moan. No sooner had the needy, desperate sound left his lips and he heard a chair scrape against the floor.

His eyes flew open. Graves only rounded the desk and leaned against it for a better view, keeping his distance. He folded his arms over his chest and watched Credence with hungry and lowered eyes, patient as a cat.

Grindelwald crooned into Credence’s ear. “So pretty, Credence. I might have to let Percival make you come, too.” His strokes came faster. “But not before I do.”

Credence whined, close already with Grindelwald’s voice in his ear and Grave’s watching him, Grindelwald’s hand bringing him closer every second to the relief he’d been denied earlier.  He knew Grindelwald must feel him tensing where he lay on top of him. His grip tightened and didn’t slow. “Come for me, Credence.” Grindelwald said softly into his ear. “Percival wants to see too.”

The arm across his chest tightened as he arched his back and cried out, his orgasm almost painfully intense at its peak, every muscle tight and trembling. Grindelwald kept stroking him through it. He shuddered and twitched as a last dribble of come was coaxed from him, wetting his cock and Grindelwald’s fingers. One last slow stroke made him jump and whimper, every nerve ending suddenly terribly sensitive. It was a relief when Grindelwald removed his hand.

With a small gesture, he cleaned them both and pushed Credence back into a sitting position. He tried to catch his breath.

Graves cleared his throat when Grindelwald handed Credence the rest of his clothes.

“The boy’s hungry.” Grindelwald told him. “I think he’s earned a hot meal. And a break.”

Credence held onto his clothes in his lap like a life-vest. He glanced up at Graves guiltily.

“Of course.” Graves smiled tightly at Credence, void of warmth. “Wouldn’t want to inconvenience anyone, Gellert.” He un-crossed his arms and turned  back to his writing. Credence shoved his feet into his pant legs hurriedly and pulled them over his waist.

“Don’t worry about him.” Grindelwald said quietly into Credence’s ear, slipping an arm around his shoulders and guiding him toward the kitchen. “He thinks the sun rises and sets at his whim.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hear ye: This chapter is darker than the others, including physical violence and noncon. Please heed.

True to his word, Grindelwald fed Credence a hot meal. He sat at the table and watched him clean his plate, too hungry to be terribly self-conscious as he did. He was told he could have a bath once he was finished, and found himself finally left quite alone standing before a tub of hot water. There were clean clothes folded and ready for him on the edge of the sink. He didn’t know what to do with the clothes he was wearing. He folded them neatly and left them where the new ones had been.  

Deciding what to do when he was clean and newly clothed was the difficult part. He was tired, almost unnaturally so and wondered if perhaps it was an aftereffect of the spell that had made him so docile. He padded down the hallway in bare feet, wondering if he was expected back where they were or if he could just slip off to bed and crawl under the blankets.

Graves was alone in the sitting room. He was still at his desk, now with a short glass of whiskey and ice and his sleeves rolled up, his shirt loosened at the collar.

“Boy.” He said without looking up. Credence stilled in the doorway. “C’mere.”

Credence crossed the floor to stand beside Graves. He rested a hand on the back of his chair timidly. Graves turned to him, looking him up and down.

“Looks like it’s you and me this evening.” Graves told him, reaching to wrap an arm around Credence’s waist. Credence found that thought extremely unsettling. Credence shifted his weight to the other foot and tried not to let his shoulders cave forward or to duck his head away from Grave’s eyes.

“Sir?”

“I said it looks like it’s just you….and me.” Graves said more slowly as though Credence were simple.

“Where is Mr Grindelwald?”

Graves shrugged. “Not here. He’ll be back. Tomorrow.”

“Oh.”

Graves tightened his grip, drawing Credence against him. He caught the sharp scent of booze on Grave’s breath as he was pressed against his side.

“I’m not going anywhere, though.”

Credence didn’t know if it was meant as a reassurance or a threat. He didn’t like that Grindelwald had left him all alone with Mr Graves - _this_ Mr Graves, who seemed so unpredictable and made him nervous. He knew it was foolish to think he wouldn’t do that, that he would stick around all the time just to keep an eye on him. He and Graves were working closely together. And Grindelwald clearly didn’t mind sharing him with Graves… he knew ought to just do whatever Graves asked, no matter how uneasy he was being all alone with him.

If he could only be sedated again, in that faraway place where he felt no shame or anxiety… He knew it was wrong to wish for his faculties to be so dulled like that… but it was so much easier that way.

“What are we going to do with you?” Graves was saying as if to himself, kneading Credence’s side with his fingers. “I know what _I_ would do with you.” He grinned as if enjoying a private joke with himself. He reached for his drink with his free hand and tipped his head back to drain it in a swig. “But unfortunately, you don’t belong to me.”

Credence thought he should probably clasp his hands right there and thank God for that.

“We can still get along though, can’t we?”

Credence closed his eyes as Grave’s brushed his lips near his ear. The scratch of stubble from his chin made him tense up, every nerve in his body telling him to pull away, to run. But there was nowhere to go. Instinctively he pulled away just a little, trying to get back some of the distance between them. Graves pulled him back roughly, the fingers digging into his side cruel and unyielding. “Where do you think you’re going?”

Credence made a sound in the back of his throat that was meant to be apologetic.

“Foolish boy.” He nuzzled against Credence’s neck, not caring how stiff his posture had become, how his hands hung limply at his sides. “I ought to put you over this desk right now and fuck some sense into you.”

He pulled back to look at him. Credence lowered his gaze, not wanting to see the uncanny lack of warmth in Grave’s eyes up this close.

“Not that you’d deserve it.” He said, grabbing a fistful of Credence’s dark hair and forcing his head back. He hated himself for how hopeful he’d been when Mr Graves had first come back, like a schoolboy with a crush. He’d thought Mr Graves would be like he’d been when it was Grindelwald, all flattery and praise. How had he been so stupid?

Fear turned his stomach, ran up and down his vertebrae and tasted like bile in his mouth. Graves shook him once. He looked up. There was patient excitement in his eyes, a cat with a mouse.

“You think you’re Gellert’s little pet and none of the rules apply to you, don’t you?” He asked.

Tears welled in Credence’s eyes at how tightly Graves was pulling the hair at the base of his skull.  

 _You’re hurting me_ , he wanted to say. _Let go._

“Think he’s gonna protect you? That he _loves_ you? Where is he then, hmm?”

“ _Please_.” Credence begged, recognizing the pitch of panic in his own voice.

“Please nothing.” Graves marched Credence down the hall, fist still tight in his hair. With a flick of his other hand, the heavy door swung open to the bedroom, slammed into the wall behind it before they even reached it. Credence was pitched forward onto the bed so hard he bit his tongue. He scrambled to get his legs back under him, tasting copper.

Graves shoved him. He went down hard on his belly, the impact forcing his breath from him. His arm was twisted awkwardly behind his back, held tightly by the wrist. The moment Graves applied pressure he yelped in pain and surprise, sure his shoulder would dislocate any moment. Grave’s knee pressed into the small of his back, effectively pinning him to the mattress.

Without thinking, without measuring the consequences, hearing only the roar of blood in his ears - he struggled. He thrashed wildly, tried to twist away. Something told him it was now or never. If he could only get on his back he could kick or claw and have a chance at getting off the bed and to the door. But Graves simply drove more of his weight into his knee, twisted Credence’s wrist so his shoulder erupted in pain. He screamed and ceased to fight, lifted up into Grave’s grip, trying to find some slack to relieve the awful strain. Any more pressure and he was sure his arm was going to break.

“Please,” he gasped. “Stop. Stop, I _can’t_.”

“You done?” Graves asked calmly. Credence nodded, sobbing into the soft quilt.

Graves let go. The blinding pain in his shoulder faded to a fierce ache as his arm fell limp by his side.

Graves leaned down to brush a lock of hair from Credence’s eyes. “It really is so much better this way,” he said into his ear.

Credence squeezed his eyes shut, knowing it was both useless and foolish to hope Grindelwald might return and save him from this, call Graves off like a rabid dog and put a familiar, soothing hand in his hair. Graves was right. If he cared he wouldn’t have left him alone like this.

“Roll over.” Graves said sharpy, removing his knee from the small of his back and turning him on his back. Credence only opened his eyes when he felt rope on his wrists. Graves was making quick work of binding his hands together, winding a slim, wiry cord tightly around and around. His shoulder ached fiercely and the rope bit his skin. The thought of being unable to move made him feel queasy.

“I wouldn't have to do this if I could trust you to behave, Credence.” Graves told him, feigning regret.

“You can.” Credence promised, throat tight with tears. “I will.”

Graves gave him an admonishing look. “Will you?”

“Yes. Yes, I swear.”

Graves eyes narrowed as he smiled. “See? Was that so hard?” He began to undo the front of Credence’s pants, still looking into his eyes. “Truce. But you’re going to have to behave for me.” He tugged Credence’s pants from his hips, all the way down to his ankles. Credence lifted his heels to aid Graves as he pulled them off, tossed them aside.

“It goes both ways.” He said softly, as if Credence were a petulant child he was trying to reason with. “You be good to me and I’ll be good to you. We can be friends yet, my boy.”

Credence’s shoulder throbbed. He sniffed, offered his bound wrists to Graves, who only laughed. “No dice. You look too pretty like that.”

Credence lowered his hands.

“Now, what have we got here?” He pushed Credence’s shirt up so that his belly and chest were exposed, eased him back to lie against the blanket, all fight extinguished.

“As I recall, you like being fucked.”

Credence reddened despite himself, remembering how wanton he’d been when Graves had him before. He’d felt safe then, but it had been an illusion. He’d brought all this on himself. He was weak and wicked after all, and now he was going to get what was coming to him.

“Was I really your first?” Graves asked, running a finger up Credence’s ribs and circling his nipple. “Because if I’m being honest, you took it like such a cheap slut I’m not so sure. You’re an attention whore, that’s abundantly obvious. I bet you can’t get enough, you’d let anyone fuck you. I could put my whole fucking fist inside you and you’d say _thank you, Sir._ ”

Credence felt tears, hot and tickling as they fell from the corners of his eyes. He wanted to wipe them away but his wrists were bound.  

Graves toyed with Credence’s nipple, watching as it grew taught, gooseflesh breaking out over the pale skin of his chest. His breathing was harder to control now, his mind distracted and racing. Graves reached across his torso to play with Credence’s other nipple, touches growing harsher. Credence whimpered when he pulled sharply.

“Sensitive.” He remarked. “Can’t let that go to waste.”

He watched as Graves reached in his clothes for his wand, paused in thought for a moment, then pointed the wand’s tip at the palm of his own hand. He watched with a mixture of dread and curiosity as a little silver chain materialized in the air, coiling down with it’s newfound gravity into Grave’s palm. He put away his wand, picked up one dainty end of the chain and held it like an unfastened necklace. As he looked he noticed there were strange looking pieces on each end, and only when Graves told him to be still did he realize what they were for. He jumped when the first clamp was affixed to his nipple, bit his lip and watched as Graves did the same to the other. The chain hung slack on his chest, connecting them.

“Now.” Graves said in warning. “If you misbehave…” He tugged the chain with one finger and it _pulled_ , and Credence flinched forward, gasping.

Pushing down shame, Credence knew this was his only viable option. He had no doubt Graves would have broken his arm to prove a point. If so, what else might he do?

Graves smiled, trailed his finger all the way down past the dip of Credence’s navel to his perineum, applying a steady pressure.

“Look at you, your dick’s getting hard already. Just can’t help it, can you?”

Graves fingers dipped lower still, rubbed at his entrance suggestively. He didn’t expect Grave’s finger to be covered in slick, but it was. It dawned on him that the more obvious pleasure he could extract from Credence, the more Graves enjoyed his victory. Credence tried not to moan when he pushed inside, but spread his legs a little in a gesture that was ultimately more of a surrender than he’d given before. Graves laughed quietly. He moved his finger in and out, in and out. He was being slow, steady.

“Little slut.” He said by way of encouragement.  Credence arched his back, helpless to the way his body was reacting. Graves began to stroke his cock in time with fucking him on his finger, getting an immediate litany of sighs in response. He didn’t stop until Credence was close to coming, eyes closed and mouth falling open. Without warning, Graves stopped.

Credence opened his eyes, making a displeased sound despite himself. Graves was watching him, the corner of his mouth curved in a little smile that Credence intensely distrusted. He crooked his finger, massaging somewhere in him that made his legs feel weak and wobbly.

“Gellert spoils you, if you ask me.” Was all he said before taking Credence back in his hand for a torturously slow stroke. He regained his old rhythm, waiting patiently as Credence tensed and got close- and let off.

Credence made another frustrated sound, letting his head fall back hard against the mattress.

Graves took a long enough break to tug the chain on his sternum, making him mewl pitifully at the awful pleasure it brought when it pulled at the clamps. Graves was pitiless, and seemed to be enjoying this little game. Credence wondered how long he would have to endure it.

He started to jerk him off again, hand wet with slick so it made an obscene sound on his red and leaking cock, desperate for relief. Graves had found exactly how Credence liked to be touched, and made quick work of using it to his advantage to get him close, curling his finger inside him as he did. Credence flexed his shaking leg muscles and made pleading sounds this time, but once again Graves stopped and his pleasure receded.

“If you come before I count to three I’m going to punish you.” He said evenly.

Credence cock bobbed free and all he could think about was when Graves was going to touch it again. He felt pitiful and ashamed. Graves was not to be fooled with. He had no idea what this man’s idea of a punishment might be, but knew it would not turn out well for him.

He moaned when the touches picked back up again, the finger in his hole brushing that spot over and over, the hand on his dick a torment and a pleasure that felt unavoidable. He tried to stay away from the edge, tried to control his body, but it wouldn’t listen. His nipples ached and throbbed and everything was too much.

“I can’t, I’m gonna come.” He sobbed, both wanting the relief and dreading it wholeheartedly.

“One...” Graves said.

 _I only have to make it to three_ , Credence thought desperately, biting his lip so hard he tasted blood for the second time that night. Graves wasn’t letting off, kept that unbearably good pace and _oh_ , there was no way he was going to last.

“Two....”

Credence whimpered. _Please. Say three say threesaythree..._

He came in Grave’s hand. He cried out miserably as his body betrayed him and pleasure flooded his senses, inevitable. He strained against the ropes on his wrists, didn’t notice when they bit into his flesh.

Graves slowed, stroking him until he was empty and trembling with come spattered on his belly.

He sighed in disappointment. “It was a simple instruction.”

“I’m sorry.” Credence breathed. It was a trick, he realized. Graves had no intention of ever saying three. “I’m sorry.”

“That was stupid. Know what happens to greedy sluts who don’t listen?”

Credence didn’t reply. Graves tugged the chain again, pulling the clamps. He cried out.  

“Do you?”

“No, Sir.”

Graves only flipped him over, his bound hands under his chest not enough to keep the clamps on his nipples pressing and dragging on the mattress. He heard him open his trousers, heard the fabric as it was pushed down. Bruising fingers dragged his hips up and back, and the carelessness with which Graves pressed into him took his breath away.

Before, under Grindelwald’s spell he’d felt no pain. This time he did. Graves hand came around to cover his mouth to muffle his cries. He thought he would have bruises around his lips where Grave’s fingers were clamped, Credence’s tears and snot running onto his hand.

Graves shifted his finger and thumb, pinching Credence’s nose shut, covering half his face. He struggled, immediately aware that he couldn’t breathe. He tried to make noise, but with no air he could make very little sound at all.

Graves other arm wrapped around his waist to hold him flush against him, his thrusts coming quick and ruthless. He moved his hand from Creence’s belly and took his over-sensitive dick in his hand. Credence bucked hard against the hateful sensation. Graves only seemed to enjoy the struggle and fucked him through it, sliding his thumb over his slit as Credence tried and failed to throw him off.

He would’ve screamed if he could. He was feeling lightheaded and panicky, and no matter which way he twisted his head he couldn’t shake Grave’s hand.  Bright spots danced in his vision and doubled as everything began to dim.

He didn’t remember when Graves was finished fucking him, or when he’d stopped that awful touching, only that the next thing he knew he was lying on his side. His hands were untied. He coughed, and it made him dizzy.

“It’s not fair if you black out. Spoils the fun.” Graves was saying from beside him. He was in a white undershirt, pulling the covers over his chest.

Credence curled in on himself protectively, cradling his chafed wrists close. He was trying very hard not to cry.

“Shh, stop that. C’mere.”

He flinched when Graves reached for him, but all he did was remove the clamp from his nipple. It ached fiercely when he did, almost worse than when it had been on. He moved a little so Graves could undo the other side. He dropped them with a clatter on the bedside table.

“There we go. Good as new. Stop crying.”

Credence gritted his teeth and blinked away the wetness from his eyes.

“Truce, remember?”

He blinked at Graves in disbelief, as if anything that had happened had been on agreed terms.

“You can sleep in the bed tonight. You’ve earned that.” Graves told him, petting his hair in what would have been a comforting gesture from someone else.

He thought it unwise to mention that Grindelwald always let him sleep in a bed. What was the alternative? Would Graves have made him sleep on the floor like a dog? Lock him in the closet? Neither would surprise him. Not now.

Graves turned out the light and rolled over, clearly through with him.  

“Credence?”

Credence made a sound to show he’d heard.

“You’ve got enough sense to keep our evening between us, right?”

“Yes, Mr Graves.” He said dully, looking at the ceiling in the dark.

Now he could cry, as long as he was silent.


End file.
